a good shove."

"Directly," said the old Malay and his face became impassive. "Tuan
knows when it is best to go, and death sometimes retreats before a firm
tread like a startled snake. Tuan should take a follower with him, not
a silly youth, but one who has lived--who has a steady heart--who would
walk close behind watchfully--and quietly. Yes. Quietly and with quick
eyes--like mine--perhaps with a weapon--I know how to strike."

Lingard looked at the wrinkled visage very near his own and into the
peering old eyes. They shone strangely. A tense eagerness was expressed
in the squatting figure leaning out toward him. On the other
side, within reach of his arm, the night stood like a wall
-discouraging--opaque--impenetrable. No help would avail. The darkness
he had to combat was too impalpable to be cleft by a blow--too dense to
be pierced by the eye; yet as if by some enchantment in the words that
made this vain offer of fidelity, it became less overpowering to his
sight, less crushing to his thought. He had a moment of pride which
soothed his heart for the space of two beats. His unreasonable and
misjudged heart, shrinking before the menace of failure, expanded freely
with a sense of generous gratitude. In the threatening dimness of his
emotions this man's offer made a point of clearness, the glimmer of
a torch held aloft in the night. It was priceless, no doubt, but
ineffectual; too small, too far, too solitary. It did not dispel the
mysterious obscurity that had descended upon his fortunes so that his
eyes could no longer see the work of his hands. The sadness of defeat
pervaded the world.

"And what could you do, O Wasub?" he said.

"I could always call out--'Take care, Tuan.'"

"And then for these charm-words of mine. Hey? Turn danger aside? What?
But perchance you would die all the same. Treachery is a strong magic,
too--as you said."

"Yes, indeed! The order might come to your servant. But I--Wasub--the
son of a free man, a follower of Rajahs, a fugitive, a slave, a
pilgrim--diver for pearls, serang of white men's ships, I have had too
many masters. Too many. You are the last." After a silence he said in an
almost indifferent voice: "If you go, Tuan, let us go together."

For a time Lingard made no sound.

"No use," he said at last. "No use, serang. One life is enough to pay
for a man's folly--and you have a household."

"I have two--Tuan; but it is a long time since I sat on the ladder of
a house to ta